


Bust Your Knee Caps

by artificial_ink



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: And sometimes she has Cosa Nostra Rose Colored Glasses, Clint Needs a Hug, Clint gets the 'father' talk from a guy with a crowbar, Darcy Lewis is secretly related to a crime family, Darcy's family is overly protective, Drabble, F/M, Inspired by Music, and help escaping this terrible situation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-07 09:16:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11620554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artificial_ink/pseuds/artificial_ink
Summary: In which Clint meets Darcy's Uncle Rocco. It could have gone better...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Posted originally on tumblr when I was just going to post a fic idea and potential request after listening to Pomplamoose's song Bust Your Knee Caps. Of course, I ended up writing it anyway. 
> 
> Based off of Fraction's Hawkeye because he's a lovable hot mess. 
> 
> I do have a second part percolating in my brain that may or may not involve a corgi puppy, but still debating a few details so am keeping it as complete for now.

A stupid argument stemming from Clint’s obvious incompetence in relationships inconveniently takes place before a holiday where Darcy visits her family. Clint doesn’t know much about Darcy’s family. She doesn’t like to talk about them and he respects that, given his own origins. He just hopes she gives him a chance to make up for being an idiot because she’s seriously the best thing that’s happened to him in a long time. Hell, he hadn’t realized at what level of hot mess he was until Darcy forced him to use his dishwasher as a _dishwasher_ instead of bow storage and eat three square meals. With green things. Seriously, he’s already running his apology speech by Lucky and Kate.  

What he doesn’t expect is about three days later when his head is roughly stuffed into a hood. He’s bludgeoned until he passes out. When he wakes up, it’s to a punch in the stomach and he’s tied up to a chair.

Okay…this looks bad but it’s probably just the Tracksuit Draculas that won’t seem to disappear no matter how hard he tries. Or maybe those drug dealers he busted last week near the apartment. All things he can handle, even if he doesn’t have his bow ready. 

Except when the hood is removed, he is definitely not faced with the European mobsters or a couple of thugs. In his bones, he knows these guys are bad news. Something just radiates off of them. An air only earned through decades of crime, bred into the family like an heirloom passed down the generations. These are the guys that bust your kneecaps for having the audacity to think you can take them down. The kind that cut off your finger as a gentle reminder to pay your dues on time. Sure, Clint’s dealt with guys like these but never unarmed and he often ends up with a cast or two after. 

So, Clint smiles sheepishly and asks how their day’s going in a jovial tone. Not even a crack from the younger ones. Never a good sign. It’s too dark (in what he assumes is a warehouse) for him to discern any exits. What’s even worse is a middle-aged man carrying a bloodstained crowbar and looking like it would make his day to have a go at Clint. 

Clint ends up rambling about how he’s just a simple landlord who wants to make his apartment safe for the families just trying to get by. How he didn’t take kindly to the drug dealers trying to recruit the kids as runners and if that impeded on family business, then so be it. Except, all the men suddenly look confused, if a little amused. 

The man with the crowbar raises an eyebrow before grinning. It’s an ugly grin and sends a shiver down Clint’s spine, even if he fights it. 

“This ain’t about drugs, kid. This is about what you did to my favorite niece,” the man says. Although Clint’s confused and on the verge of denying such outlandish claims, his stomach drops nonetheless. 

“She’s your only niece, Uncle Rocco,” one of the younger men point out in good humor. ‘Uncle Rocco’ shrugs. 

“Is this about Penny? Is she back?” Clint ventures. Penny was involved with the Tracksuits. Maybe she was family to some other mob before that. Though it’s made obvious rather quickly at Rocco’s angry sneer that’s not the answer they want. 

“No. It’s about Darcy. But you messin’ round with tramps would explain why she was almost in tears, this Thanksgiving.” 

Okay. This really is bad. At least, now, Clint knows why Darcy never mentioned her family. Though, he doubts that will sooth him when he’s fitted with cement shoes and dropped into the East River. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to continue this due to the positive feedback and the fact that we all want to know what happens to Clint! Hope you enjoy the chapter!

Don’t get Darcy wrong. She loves her family. She just tries to ignore everything that they do. Obviously, she operates under a lot of ‘grey area’ mentality. When she was 8-years-old and the kids started to avoid her in school because their parents told them to, Darcy realized that there were some major downsides to her last name, even if she wasn’t exactly sure why she’d suddenly become the plague at the time. So when she was 12, she begged her parents to send her off to a private school outside of their district. She started going by Darcy and enjoyed minor obscurity. On her 18th birthday, Daniela Locatelli legally became Darcy Lewis. 

Even if her family didn’t like it, they accepted it to a degree. They agreed to call her Darcy, never shamed her for not wanting to get involved with family business and cheered her on when she decided to become a political science major. To be fair, she’s pretty sure Uncle Rocco was hoping she’d eventually use her newfound political power to help them out but then she interned for Jane and a lot of things changed. Nonetheless, her family is supportive. As long as you aren’t endangering the family, you’re adored without question and she guesses that’s one of the pros of being in a mob family. With the family agreement of no shop talk during holiday dinners, it got pretty easy for Darcy to ‘ignore’ her family’s business. 

It’s also times like these, when she’s wandering through a Petco and giving her cousin advice on wooing his wife, the whole ‘Cosa Nostra’ thing is practically forgotten.

“I thought you and Lucy were fine. Why all the sudden need for romancing? Not that I’m saying it’s a bad thing,” Darcy asks while testing out doggie beds. Her new corgi puppy is excitedly weaving his way in and out of Darcy’s legs. The little fur ball was a gift from Uncle Rocco this morning. He said he noticed how down she’s been and wanted to cheer her up. Free puppies are always appreciated, as far as Darcy’s concerned. Though, she’s hoping the reason for her emotional turmoil is going to be moot soon. This morning, Kate called Darcy explaining what really happened, that Clint is an idiot (which she already knew) and has been moping ever since Darcy left for Thanksgiving. Kate even recited what she claimed was, verbatim, Clint’s apology. Apparently, she’s a little sick of Clint messing up good relationships as well as listening to his apology speech over and over. Darcy just hopes that Clint adults up and actually goes through with the apology. What she heard was sincere and sweet in the clumsy way that is all Clint’s own. Now it just needs to be said by the socially incompetent archer himself (how the hell Clint was a spy for SHIELD for so long, Darcy’s not entirely sure).

“You know Lucy and I have been tryin’ for a baby,” Tommy mumbles with a shrug. There’s a pad of paper and a pen in his hand that he’s been using to take down romance notes. He shoves them into his back pocket. Tommy’s only a few years older than Darcy and she’s always liked him. The guy even took her to her Prom when no one else would (though he met his wife there, so he did get something out of it in the end). Despite his heavy involvement with the family, he’s got a good head on his shoulders. Even got a degree in accounting so he could pick up the less violent side of the business. Darcy would not expect anything less for her best friend, Lucy Cardoso. “She’s just really upset it hasn’t happened yet and I wanted to do something nice. The doc says it may help to take her mind off the stress.” 

“Oh, that’s really sweet. I’m sure you guys will be all right. The doctor said everything was fine…down there, right?” Darcy waves a hand towards the general direction of his parts and Tommy smiles. 

“Yeah. You shoulda heard what Uncle Rocco suggest I do,” snickers Tommy before turning his attention back to the aisle. “Why don’t we just spread out some of these beds and see which one Little Rocco goes to?”

“I am totally changing his name from ‘Little Rocco’,” Darcy looks down at said corgi shaking his little butt in excitement. She rolls her eyes at Rocco’s vanity but says nothing else on the matter and sets a few of the beds down in the middle of the aisle. “And let me guess, did he tell you to just get her a bottle of Chianti and a Frank Sinatra album?” 

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“He tells that to my dad every time my parents get into a fight. Claims that’s how each of his sons were conceived.”  

“Lucy’s getting to the point where she’s considering it,” Tommy smiles, watching as ‘Little Rocco’ sniffs at the line of beds before sitting in front of one that has a little flap where he can curl under like a blanket. They put it in the shopping cart. “But she wants to switch out Sinatra for Salt-N-Pepa.” 

“Maybe I should tell Kate to give the hint to Clint,” Darcy says, laughing at her friend’s sex music preferences but she notices Tommy stiffen for just a moment in the middle of re-stacking the dog beds. Something about it seems…off. She’s not entirely sure what gossip has been floating around the family in regards to her love life. They knew from the beginning of the holiday that she and Clint weren’t doing too well but didn’t know exactly what the fight was about. She’d hinted at a few things but didn’t outright say anything. Out of anyone in the family, Tommy knows more about Clint, simply because of Lucy. Despite that, Darcy’s done her best to keep Clint’s superhero ego under wraps. 

“Kate’s Clint’s protégée…for the archery club they’re in. Lucy’s met her. Said she liked her moxie,” Darcy explains and Tommy just nods, lips pursed. They head towards the front of the store to wait in line, since the doggie bed is the last thing on their list. “There’s nothing going on between Kate and Clint. She thinks he’s old and not nearly smooth enough for her standards.”

“Maybe you should raise _your_ standards,” Tommy says carefully. 

“Okay, what has everyone been saying?” Darcy finally asks with a sigh. Ever since Thanksgiving dinner when she bumbled out an excuse for why she avoiding all conversation about her boyfriend, she’s been getting pitying looks and offers of blind dates. 

“Oh, you know,” Tommy mumbled, “just that he’s a bastard, broke your heart, steals candy from babies and maybe something about abandoning you at Coney Island.” 

“Okay…the Coney Island one is kind of true. But Clint definitely does not steal candy from children.” 

“He left you at Coney Island to deal drugs? Guy’s not very organized if he can’t set up a date and a deal properly,” Tommy frowns and Darcy curses her Aunt Linda. 

“No! He left because he got a call there were drug dealers around the building he owns, trying to poach a couple kids to become runners,” Darcy says. “He’s really protective of his tenants. I’m not even mad at him about that anymore. Now that I know what actually happened.” 

“Well, Aunt Linda’s been sayin’ that the guy left you to throw up alone, right after you rode the Cyclone. Also, that he hustled some kids out of candy,” says Tommy, briefly answering the cashier on how their day is doing in a cheery tone. He turns his attention back to Darcy once the girl is ringing up their items.  

“Of course she said that,” Darcy growls, throwing up her hands. “And for the record, I’ve never puked after riding a roller coaster. In my entire life.”

“Well, what do you expect when you tell Aunt Linda things?” 

“I wasn’t planning on it but you know how she drags things out of you, then twists it. Why does anyone still believe her? Uncle Rocco uses a crowbar and Aunt Linda uses her mind games. No wonder they’re married,” Darcy lets out a huff of frustration at Tommy’s nonchalance over Aunt Linda’s inability to not flourish the truth with ridiculous lies. Tommy’s gaze dart between Darcy and the cashier, who is now listening to the conversation with wide eyes. 

“Don’t be too upset with Uncle Rocco and Aunt Linda. You know they try to help in their own way. Aunt Linda probably thought if she told us, it might help. Y’know, get through the tough times with the help of family, that sort of thing,” Tommy says in an even tone, doing his best to keep any real details from anyone that can easily eavesdrop. “You’ve hardly told us anything about Clint. If you don’t tell us things, we’ll just assume it’s because you’re hiding something bad.” 

“I know,” Darcy says, anger deflating and volume much lower. She can see how her lack of details over Clint could be worrying to everyone. Normally, things are pretty open between the Locatellis. Ever since Thor and the continuous stream of nondisclosure agreements she’s had to sign from SHIELD and now Stark Industries, Darcy supposes she’s been a little more tightlipped with her family. But to be fair, she’s always been a little quiet about her boyfriends. The Locatellis have…interesting standards when it comes to her dates. 

Picking up ‘Little Rocco’, who Darcy has just decided will be named Fig, she kisses the puppy on his forehead. Cuddling Fig should help her calm down. She waits until the cashier finishes and Tommy hands her Uncle Rocco’s credit card before continuing. “Bottom line, Clint’s a genuinely nice guy and I really, really, _really_ like him. Yeah, he’s kind of inept at relationships but I personally find it almost endearing. He means well and I know he’s probably really sorry. Long as he apologies for not communicating and promises to try in the future, we’ll get through it.” 

“So you’re…thinking about getting back together with him?” Tommy asks, standing a little straighter and eyes narrowing slightly. His lips thin as he waits for her answer, stuffing the credit card and long receipt back into his wallet. 

“Well, yeah,” Darcy says in a ‘duh’ tone. They make their way back to the car, filling the trunk with everything a dog could ever dream of. There’s even a few things for Lucky. “Hands down, he’s like, the best guy I’ve ever dated.” 

“C’mon,” scoffs Tommy. He shoves his hands into his pockets, looking uncomfortable with her admission. “You’ve dated other guys that…that haven’t treated you like Clint has. What about Brock? We all liked Brock. He was a good guy.” 

“Brock is dead because he was a Nazi,” Darcy says, rolling her eyes and regretting that she even entertained the notion of dating Brock and then introducing him to her family. They freaking _loved_ him because of course they’d love Brock Rumlow. He was Italian and a criminal.  Also, he’d apparently done a couple of jobs as an outside contractor for the family years ago. Maybe it had been kind of nice to have the family so accepting of someone she was seeing. It’s possible she may have gotten so swept away in the ‘accepting family’ excitement that she glossed over the warning signs with Brock. Seriously, talk about Cosa Nostra rose colored glasses. 

“But he never left you at the Cyclone,” Tommy says in a sing-song voice, false grin in place. His foot starts to tap and she knows that’s a nervous tick. Lucy’s mentioned it before. 

“Why are you nervous all of a sudden?” Darcy asks, narrowing her eyes. She’d cross her arms if she wasn’t holding Fig. She thinks back through the day. Uncle Rocco had bestowed her with Fig and then Tommy offered to take her to Petco for supplies since he wanted some advice about Lucy. Then they drove to a Petco an hour away, because the one nearest to her parent’s house was in recently stolen ‘enemy territory’ while the other ones were simply in previously claimed ‘enemy territory’. She’d been too happy with her new puppy and Kate’s explanation of Clint’s actions, that she just went along with everything. But the last time Uncle Rocco gave her a random present out of nowhere was when she was in high school and he’d presented her with a brand new iPod. It was to distract her from the fact he’d kidnapped her Prom date and scared the kid so bad that he’d broken things off with Darcy and told all the boys at school to avoid her. 

Oh god. 

“Tommy, why did Uncle Rocco give me this puppy?” Darcy asks, voice hard as steel. With shoulders set and eyes blazing in fury, she probably looks like everything that one would expect from Frank Locatelli’s only daughter. Although Darcy doesn’t get furious often, she’s been told that she’s a mirror of the Underboss on the few occasions. She can see it in the way Tommy’s eyes widen in fear and his lips turn into a thin line. 

“Because, you’ve been sad this whole weekend,” mumbles Tommy, keeping eye contact with difficulty. The answer isn’t good enough and Darcy raises an eyebrow. The man blanches. 

“You are taking me to Clint, right now. Where did they take him?” Darcy commanded, watching as Tommy lets out a frustrated grunt and run his hands frantically through his hair. Tommy considers what’s worse: Darcy’s anger, which is right _here_ or Uncle Rocco’s future anger for spilling the beans. He takes into account that Darcy actually wants to continue her relationship with Clint. 

“That warehouse they took Richie Nash to when we found out he was embezzling,” says Tommy with a wince. It’s about an hour and a half away. It’s also next to an easy access dumping site and she knows that no one will be answering her phone calls if what she thinks is going down, is actually going down. As if they’d even listen to her at this point. Uncle Rocco is a Capo and she’s not even an associate. None of the boys will listen to her. She can’t even ask her dad to call it off because he’s at a spa with her mom and told everyone that he’s be unreachable for the day. Her stomach drops and her chests seizes as she considers calling Natasha. It seems wrong to call an Avenger on her family but they also have an Avenger in captivity. Telling anyone about the location of the warehouse and who’s associated with it is treason against the family. Yet, what else can she do? All Darcy hopes is that Natasha’s already aware of the area and what goes down there, so she correctly guesses at vague hints. Is that still treason? She knows one of her cousins has a huge crush on the Black Widow and maybe meeting her is enough to ease the betrayal. 

Everything is just messed up and Darcy regrets dragging Clint out for pizza and beer on what they consider their first date. Not if it all ends with Clint’s body dumped in Gilgo Beach.

With a grim nod, Tommy slams the trunk shut. They run to the front seats and Darcy prays that it won’t be too late. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos and comments. Always appreciated even if I don't get around to replying.   
> All translations are at the end.   
> Warning: descriptions of violence though mostly mild at this point. Also extremely brief allusion of child abuse.

The pain is all too familiar. For as long as he can remember, Clint’s been getting hurt. From a shitty home to life as a carnie, some lame attempts at being a superhero before recruitment by SHIELD and eventually becoming an Avenger. Bruises, broken bones, cuts, burns, gunshots wounds were just normal life. It’s actually kind of depressing if Clint thinks about it and he is because his life is flashing before his eyes. Honestly, he hasn’t felt this down about a situation since he was a kid and was actually physically helpless. None of the Avengers knows he’s here. Kate probably assumes he’s gone to make up with Darcy and…shit. Darcy. She’s probably still angry at him.

Clint’s never going to see Darcy again and that’s really the most depressing thought so far. She’s never going to know what really happened. That he loves her but sometimes is not so good with the explaining his actions even if he will do his best to work on it. Because he’s not going to get the chance to work on it or even tell her he loves her. He’s going to die in a dirty warehouse at the hands of a yet to be named mob. Even if this is the most likely way that he was going to die, it still sucks. A small part of him was still holding out for dying of old age. Maybe with Darcy complaining in her broken sign language by his side. 

Do the dying see the hopeful future they long for along with the flashes of the past? Because the image of Darcy wrinkled, grey-haired and smiling at him is actually a really nice image. Not that he’d tell her that because she’s already freaked out about turning into her mother. 

Oh, right. He won’t be able to. 

Another punch to the side and all he can get out is a bloody exhale of breath. His entire body is in pain and he can’t feel where the injuries stop. While Clint thinks that Uncle Rocco has actually kind of gone easy on him, it’s still an objective term. The crowbar was used mostly for blunt force. All middle body and thigh. No broken ribs yet, just bruised. Hearing aids still in and untouched, mostly because they want him to hear the verbal abuse. They’ve hit his face but only with fists and they’ve avoided his junk, which is probably just out of manly sympathy (still appreciated). Even if his left eye is swollen shut and there’s blood pooling in his mouth, he’s still got all this teeth. Though, if they’re really gonna dispose of him, then he supposes the teeth are going to be one of the first to go postmortem. They haven’t busted his knee caps even if they’ve alluded to it but maybe they’re saving it for the pièce de résistance.

“Ya know,” Rocco muses, crossing his arms and looking down on Clint with he thinks may be a speculative gaze. It’s hard to tell with the one good eye when blood is dripping down into it. “Gotta say, for a _testa di cazzo_ , you can really take a punch. Most guys woulda been cryin’ and beggin’ for their lives a long time ago. I respect that.” 

“Thanks?” Clint gurgles out, trying to spit out some of the excess blood and saliva but it mostly just spills down his chin. 

“Kind of sorry now, that I gotta kill you,” Rocco says with a feigned forlorn sigh. 

“Ya don’ haff ta,” Clint forces out and Rocco laughs. It’s cold. 

“If I don’t, the boys’ll talk. Can’t be havin’ that. Gotta keep a good example,” Rocco shakes his head solemnly, bending down onto one knee so he’s more level with Clint. “ _La Famiglia per sempre_. You know Italian?” 

“Yeah,” Clint says. Weirdly enough, it’s one of the languages he’s actually fluent in. It had been fun to see Darcy talk to herself in Italian. She’d been mortified at first that he understood her rather…colorful take on the language that was definitely learned from male figures. He thought it was cute. But this situation is decidedly less so and he knows what Uncle Rocco is proclaiming. The family first. This man isn’t going to risk Clint talking. Especially since he’s been chatting away like they’ve been on a coffee date. From what Clint can tell, Uncle Rocco is super proud of Darcy despite her straying away from family business and dating what he feels are deadbeats. It would be heartwarming if it wasn’t so physically painful. 

“Really? Then I guess I’m gonna feel even worse about killin’ you. Maybe if the world was a little more fair, you’d be the man for Darcy. But if the world was a little more fair, I wouldn’t be bustin’ skulls to make a livin’, would I?” 

“Maybe ya just enjoy it,” Clint can’t help but choke out. It brings a laugh to Rocco but Clint doesn’t think it’s going to save him. 

“Just for makin’ me laugh, I’m gonna make it fast,” Rocco says and Clint guesses that he should be thankful. At this point, he’s not even sure if he can feel more pain. He’s pretty much reached the threshold and anything more probably won’t register. Doesn’t want to test it either way. 

What sounds like the creaking of a door echoes and all the men stand up straight, hands moving quickly to their guns. Rocco starts to curse in Italian when a nasally female voice speaks out. 

“Excuse me, I think I’m a little lost. I’m supposed to help set up for a rave,” asks a woman and Clint almost perks up when he recognizes Natasha’s voice, despite the Valley girl accent she’s putting on. Almost perks up because he doesn’t really have the energy to. The feel of euphoric relief though is filling him up. Maybe old age is still in the running. 

“Uh, sorry _bambolina_ , you got the wrong spot,” one of the younger men say, already running towards the sound of Natasha’s voice. The other men move to block Clint from he suspects is Natasha’s line of vision if he tries to hear the clacking of her heels. Clint can’t see her and he knows it’s not just because of his impaired vision. She’s keeping to the darkness to keep her advantage. While Clint would hate to hurt any one of Darcy’s family because he’s still hoping that she can bring him to family events if they make up after this, he’s completely fine with Natasha enacting some revenge. 

“Oh my god, silly me. You think you could help me, tiger? Rawr. You’ll get an invite as a thank you. It’s going to be the party of the year,” Natasha continues to gush and the lackey goes on about how pretty she is and that it won’t be any problem. If Clint could roll his eyes at how thick this kid is laying it on, he would. 

Eventually, the chatter dies down but Clint isn’t sure if it’s because Natasha has taken down the boy or because they’re out of earshot. The mob around him is still tense, and rightly so. These guys aren’t dumb enough to not have look outs and there’s no good excuse for Natasha to have made it past them. It’s silent for a moment but Rocco quirks his head. Either he realized the creak of the door hasn’t sounded or he can’t hear Natasha’s heels anymore. Could be both. Just as he takes out his gun, one of the men standing in the edges of light gets pulled back, his grunt of surprise cut short. Now everyone’s attention is caught, guns out and pointing in various directions as Natasha barrels in to take them out with a grace that only she can master. Guns are shot and men are shouting in confusion and Clint wishes he can take out his hearing aids. It all stops when the door bangs open and a ray of light shines through. In the shadows, he makes out what he assumes is an angel. 

“Uncle Rocco! What the hell are you doing?” Darcy shouts and Clint thinks he may die of happiness. Just hearing her voice causes joy to fill his bones, numbing some of his pain. Though, that could be a sign of him going into shock. 

“Daniela Locatelli, this is man’s business. You keep out of it,” Rocco warns. The name does not escape Clint and his gut sinks slightly. The Locatellis are bad news. If he remembers his mob family tree correctly, they are the only of the Five that are still headed by the original founding blood. They’re particularly proud of it.

“Man’s business? Since when is kidnapping my boyfriend and planning to kill him without my permission count as man’s business instead of completely insane?” Darcy asks as florescent lights suddenly flash on above them in a descending line until the entire warehouse is lit. Clint closes his eye at the brightness. 

“You broke up with him!” Rocco says, sounding more like a pouting child than someone caught in the middle of attempt at murder. 

“We got in a fight. We never actually broke up!” Darcy counters and Rocco lets out a huff. Risking the bright lights, Clint opens up his eye and sees Darcy rushing towards him, holding a little dog with another man her age in tow. There are handful of men on the ground, beginning to wake up and groan. Natasha and one of the lackeys are posed with arms lifted for punches, paused in midair, now too surprised to follow through. 

“Tommy, I thought I told you to keep her busy,” Rocco begins to berate the young man behind Darcy. 

“I was but she figured it out and you know how she gets when she’s angry,” Tommy says in a slight whine. “Besides, she says she still wanted to be with him. I couldn’t let you kill the guy if she really meant it.” 

“And who the hell is this hot piece?” Rocco asks, pointing a thumb at Natasha, who drops her raised up to offer a jaunty wave and jut out her hip. 

“She’s my friend, Uncle Rocco. I sent her ahead to stop you because you told Tommy to take me to a Petco in the damn Bronx.” 

“You sent an outsider to stop your family? That’s treason, young woman. And what the hell kind of friends you got now?”  Rocco is now berating Darcy but she’s obviously rolling her eyes. 

“The kind that can stop you killing my boyfriend without my permission!” 

“I knew I should have sent you to that spa with your parents,” grinds out Rocco before attempting a more placating tone. “C’mon, Darcy. This is something that’s gotta be done. You can pick any nice boy you want but you want this piece of trash?”

“Clint is the best guy I’ve ever dated,” Darcy says with such conviction that Clint’s chest swells with love. It’s nice to not be afraid of it, too. She’s about ten feet away from him now and he can see her more clearly. She’s beautiful, as always but there’s something riveting about the anger fueling her. There’s also a corgi puppy in her arms. Clint briefly entertains the notion that he’s actually died and this is a weird limbo before he’s properly sorted into hell. 

“You know that’s not true. You’ve dated loads of better men,” Rocco says, gesturing in what Clint supposes is a somewhat stereotypical Italian immigrant way. “What about Rumlow? We all loved Brock. A nice, strong Italian man.” 

“Brock is dead! Because he was a traitor and a Nazi. So can we all just agree that it’s a moot point,” Darcy screams at what is obviously a touchy subject. Though, Clint is still going to have to ask her about that later. Or ask Natasha for the old SHIELD files that he assumes are already written about this. There’s no way SHIELD didn’t note Rumlow and Darcy dating seriously enough for her to introduce him to the family. He’s not sure how he didn’t know. 

“You watch your volume. Your father raised you better than that,” Rocco says and Darcy lets out an angry huff as she stands straighter and holds the wriggling puppy just a little closer to her chest. 

“My father raised me to know the rules. What about not killing outsiders? I know that one. Pretty sure all my brothers and cousins learned it too,” Darcy says with attitude that makes Rocco pause as all eyes fall to him. 

“You…you know there’s always exceptions,” Rocco insists and Darcy raises an eyebrow as she begins to tap a foot. For just a moment, Rocco falters and Darcy leaps on it. 

“My father doesn’t know about this. Does he?” 

“Look, I took matters into my own hands. He would appreciate that,” Rocco says with conviction but Clint notices the other men look a little less sure. 

“I’m not in high school anymore. You can’t go kidnapping my dates and threatening them. I’m a grown woman. I can make my own choices and if I need to beat up a deadbeat boyfriend then I’ll do it myself.”

“That sentence took a turn,” Clint says softly, starting to smile until it tugged too much on his busted lip. The noise garners Darcy’s attention and she gasps, as if she’s seeing him for the first time. He probably isn’t a pretty sight. Setting down the puppy, Darcy runs towards him and gently takes his head in her hands. He can feel her thumbs rubbing softly along his skin and this time he smiles through the pain. “Hey babe.” 

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry. This is why I never talk about my family.” 

“A lil’ warning woulda been nice,” Clint says and Darcy lets out a noise halfway between a sob and a laugh. The rope tying his hands and feet are cut loose but he doesn’t know who does it. All he can see is Darcy. Her eyes are sparkling with tears but there’s relief in them and affection. 

“If you never want to see me again, I’d understand,” Darcy says sadly, looking away as if she can’t bear the thought. He can’t either. 

“Darcy. I-I am so sorry,” Clint grinds out. He hates that she feels that way and this all started because he was an idiot. When Darcy shakes her head at his apology, he continues. “No, really. I had this all planned. There were gonna be candles and everything. Okay. You’re the best thing in my life and I messed up. You’re the only woman that’s ever got me to order vegetables on a pizza and I even separate the darks and lights when you’re not around. You’re like, the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Even learnin’ archery or joinin’ the Avengers. I’d give it up for you but I’d be worried there’d be no reason left for you to date me. Darcy, you’re like a bird. A pretty bird because at first you’re like, cool, a bird. But when you look more at it, you realize how…awesome it is and how scary because what sort of thing flies on its own but it’s also beautiful. Because how does it fly on its own? And I didn’t leave you because of stupid stuff, I’m just stupid. I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Darcy says with a sigh, lips wobbling but still in a smile. 

“That is the worst apology I ever heard,” Rocco interrupts the warm moment and it’s intermingled with someone else saying, “Shit, did we just try to kill an Avenger?”

It doesn’t bother Clint because it _is_ kind of a shitty apology. He had it all memorized but he thinks his concussion is ruining his train of thought. All he knows is that Darcy came for him and scared a bunch of mob guys in the process. Oh, and that she loves him back. That’s the best feeling in the world. 

“Clint, that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” Darcy insists. “But I’m taking you to a hospital and we’re gonna totally make out when the doctor clears you.”

“No-” Clint begins to object but Darcy’s voice turns to a familiar steel he’s always admired and now he knows how she earned that tone. 

“You’re gonna see a doctor. I don’t care if its at the ER or if we swing by Stark Tower, but you’re sleeping where someone can monitor you. And yes, I’ll nurse you back myself also,” Darcy promises sweetly. Clint’s sold on that last bit. He doesn’t even object when Darcy and someone else lifts him up and practically carry him to the backseat of a car. It’s all a blur, really. All he remembers is Darcy sitting next to him, helping prop him up as a dog licks at his fingers. Her hand lightly teases his hair and she whispers sweet nothings into his ear. 

Maybe he really has died and made it to heaven. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italian translations  
> Testa di cazzo: dickhead  
> La Famiglia per sempre: the family first  
> Bambolina: Baby doll


End file.
